Late Night's
by demonlovechild
Summary: Optimus Prime is tormented by the day he lost his sparkmate and in his grief feels responsible for it all.


**Okay a couple days ago I was looking through my documents and OMG I found this extremely old fic, I started this WAY back in January and for some reason never finished it. But low and behold after reading it again, I've decided to edit it and post it. I hope you all enjoy…;) **

**comments and suggestions...plzzzz, much love :D  
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**Disclaimer: Of course I don't own transformers or anything related. Now on with the story.

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Optimus Prime groaned irritably as his optics blinked in confusion at the data pad in his hands. He'd been roving over the same section of words for the last hour and a half and still couldn't make sense of it. The neatly written paragraph underneath Prowls name meant nothing as he tried to comprehend it but the words just seemed to pull further and further away from the electronic screen and soon became unintelligible all together.

He sighed heavily laying the data pad down. Clearly no work was getting done tonight. Some how the simple and benign data pad had shattered his processor leaving him feeling inept and totally subjugated, dropping his head in his hands the once proud and stoic leader of Autobot's felt utterly guilt redden.

He scanned over his work desk and frowned, the once tidy and presentable office space was now soiled with numerously unassisted data pads scattered across the surface, some were even on the floor and he groaned. It'd been weeks, perhaps even a month, since the stainless steel finish of his desk top was actually visible. Unable to distinguish his desk from the mountain of unassisted data pads he groaned once more feeling a familiar ache manifesting in his processor.

Looking to the ceiling, he pinched the bridge of his noseplate tiredly. Apparently since his work was not going to get done, once again, he'd have to pass the task off to one of his officers again this week.

He hated not being able to perform the duties at hand, especially his duties as Prime. Like any other task on the Ark, assessing files was vital in keeping every Autobot on base organized. How ironic that the one 'bot responsible for doling out said orders was so _disorganized_. But no matter how hard he'd tried, over the weeks, to quiet his processor and work it always reverted back to that horrendous day on Cybertron, the day he and his Autobots lost their female counterparts forever.

It was all so terribly clear in his processor and he only wished he could forget it. Shaking his head he tried clearing it of the steadily growing pain, but he couldn't ignore it this time. The feeling in his processor was not going to go away and he'd have to relive the racing, anxious, guilty feeling again. Taking a breath in the Autobot leader let the horrid memories invade his processor and wash over his optics…

Elita One had sent out an urgent distress signal to the Ark on earth, her base was being attacked by unknown assailants and the femmes desperately needed help.

Optimus Prime knew in an instant that if the Autobot's infamously stubborn femme commander was actually asking for his help, chances of her survival or the femme's survival had to have been infinitesimal. He wasted no time in preparing a crew and boarding their space-bridge to Cybertron. But upon his arrival, the Autobot leader discovered they were just a moment too late.

Closing his optics Optimus trembled, it was his fault entirely. The lack of diligence rested solely upon his shoulders as leader and the guilt ravaged him unmercifully. He abhorred the fact he could remember it all so clearly, trudging across the devastation of the once resilient base only to discover one lifeless female Autobot after another in gruesome repetition. It took Wheeljack, Prowl and Jazz to restrain Ironhide as Chromia's body was salvaged from the mess.

She had to have been present during the initial blast, possibly shielding the others, as her body and faceplate were mangled and torn beyond recognition; only Ratchets scanners confirmed that the mutilated body they'd found was in fact their beloved Chromia. Ironhide screamed out in agony for the love he'd lost and it was sheer torture for the Autobot leader to hear his best friend's ferity howl for he knew he couldn't comfort him.

Carefully Ratchet had placed Chromia in Ironhide's arms and the red veteran wept painfully over his sparkmate's shell. The once exuberant firecracker of a femme laid pallid and lifeless in the red mechs arms, a mere shadow of her beautiful former self. All too soon though, Optimus Prime understood the pain Ironhide felt as Elita One's body was found soon there after word.

He whimpered quietly clenching his optics tight, his spark aching as he recalled seeing the grayed shell of his beloved in Ratchet's arms. He'd dropped his rifle falling to his knees and gasped for air. It was unfathomable to know that the femme he'd bonded to, kissed, held, made love to and shared half a spark with was gone in the blink of an optic.

The medic handed his leader the grayed shell of the femme commander and Optimus Prime tentatively clasped her body to his, arms shaking as he held her cold gray carcass. Elita One was forged by the hand of Primus himself, she'd blessed the Autobot leader with her smile, her grace, her touch, her beauty and her strength. Her very existence changed him as a mech and now...so had her death.

The Autbot's femme commander was no more, Elita One was gone and Optimus Prime felt it completely. The only mechanism in the entire universe he'd loved and cherished with every inch of his being was gone forever and all because of his negligence. If he'd only gotten there sooner, he could've saved her.

"Elita…" He whispered shakily, optics beginning to water.

His spark wrenched painfully at her name. The name that'd once spread immeasurable love and warmth throughout his spark was now a painful hideous reminder of the femme he'd lost because of his own ineptitude and he winced wrapping his arms around himself, the grief and gilt of not being able to protect her was too much and it ate him up inside.

Suddenly, looking around his spacious room, the walls seemed to be closing in and coolant began rolling down his faceplate as fuel pumped fiercely through his circuits. His spark was pulsing too fast, he needed help.

He stood up on wobbling legs and instantly felt out of breath, his spark continuing to race. The feeling was so overwhelming it constricted his entire body with a violent and painful shudder. Feeling so unstable the Autobot leader fell forward frantically reaching out before hitting the ground. He grasped onto the edge of the desk for leverage sending data-pads everywhere, his processor growing lighter with each passing astrosecond. His hands shook clenching the edge of the desk with every ounce of the little strength he had. His intakes circled wildly trying to cool his systems as he panted. Looking around his office again darkness began to takeover his optics and the Autobot leader panicked.

Releasing the desk Optimus Prime fell to his back colliding loudly with the floor; he was losing consciousness, the electronic hum of the fluorescent lighting above left his audios and all he could hear was his cracked breathing and madly pulsing spark. Shakily he opened his comlink to the med bay and prayed Ratchet would answer, luckily the signal went through.

"This is Ratchet Prime," The medic spoke calmly into the link, Optimus stayed silent as he didn't have the strength to speak.

"This is Ratchet Prime, are you there?" The medic spoke again. Fearing the medic may think it a fluke and sever the link, the Autobot leader disregarded his lack of strength and tried to speak, a tightness rose in his throat and a choked cough came instead of words.

"Optimus, what is it? What's the matter?" Ratchet asked suddenly sounding alarmed at the choking sound, coughing again the Autobot leader found the strength to speak.

"….help me…ratch," He whispered and the link immediately went dead. Optimus was sure the medic severed the link rushing out the med bay and was en route to his office, but it still didn't comfort his racing spark for guilt, grief and pain had overtaken him completely.

Painful shudders and moisture ravaged his body as he helplessly lay prone on his floor, darkness slowly taking hold of his optics and all he could think of was Elita, and how badly he needed her. He needed her comfort; he needed to feel her loving touch, to feel her warm arms holding him and her soothing voice telling him everything was going to be okay, he needed her now more then ever. But his spark knew she was gone, she was gone forever and it was his fault. Warm tears flowed from his optics, he was going to pass out and there was no one there to save him as tears overtook his optics.

He would succumb to total darkness hopelessly alone and scared...just like his Elita One.

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**Poor Optimus, dude loses his sparkmate, blames himself for it and then passes out on the floor from grief. It's not over though. Not the best written thing in the world but hey...what 'cha gonna do right?**

**Anyway, I really want to form a story around this little chapter I just don't know what it should be yet though. But there's more to come so stay right there...;)**


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